Last week a solider was killed in Iraq, who happened to be from this area. Today his remains were flown to the base. Flightline activity was suspended while the casket was unloaded from the aircraft and transferred to the hearse. Then a motorcade consisting of the hearse, the soldier's family, and motorcycle and police escorts moved slowly along the roads on its way off base.
People came out of their offices and lined the roads--military, civilians, and contractors all--to pay their respects. While waiting the mood was genial; coworkers conversed among the quiet murmur, grateful for a day of New England sunshine. Soon security teams stopped traffic along our route. Those waiting to enter the gate held still. A semi-truck, resting in its turn lane, quieted its engine. Without a call to attention or warning, the crowd grew silent as people slipped to the front to view the procession as it approached. Airmen and soldiers stood at attention and saluted. Some civilians placed their hands over their hearts; the rest of us left them down by our sides.
Police vehicles...
...the hearse containing the soldier's remains, his coffin bearing the American flag...
...a limo containing, presumably, the soldier's family...
...the escort of civilian motorcyclists...
...and finally the last of the police vehicles.
All drove quietly and solemnly by and exited the gate as quickly as they'd approached us. In less than a minute it was over. A glance further up the route showed others going back to their respective buildings. The murmur of the crowd did not return as we silently walked back to our offices. And, as one man whispered, "That was that."
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